


All of These Lines Across My Face

by harryhasajetpack



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Eddie and Richie are soft as hell, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Slurs, Sonia Kaspbrak is awful but it's not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 02:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21219386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryhasajetpack/pseuds/harryhasajetpack
Summary: Eddie and Richie through the years, punctuated by Richie's hands.





	All of These Lines Across My Face

Eddie was around eleven years old when he first really noticed Richie’s hands. All seven of their friend group was scattered around Ben’s basement, the television blaring something gooey and romantic because it was Ben’s choice, but Eddie wasn’t paying attention to the mess on screen. He was watching, from the corner of his eye, as Richie fidgeted. Richie would raise a hand to flop his hair back and forth; Eddie presumed that Richie meant to “fix” it, but all he really did was move it around a bit. Then Richie’s hand would fall back to his lap where it would tangle with the other one, his fingers would twist around each other nonsensically. If Eddie hadn’t known any better, he would have said that Richie was nervous. The thought tempted Eddie to lay his own hands down over Richie’s to still their movements, but, as he was sat in a large chair several feet from the couch that Richie shared with Ben and Bev, that was something he couldn’t just do. He would have had to stand up, walk over there, squish himself in between Richie and Bev and then top it all off by holding Richie’s hands. Despite the ridiculousness of it, he found that he still kind of wanted that. He found himself wondering what Richie’s hands felt like. Were they soft? Warm? Would they still when his hands touched them? Would they curl around his instead? Would they—someone cleared their throat and Eddie’s train of thought was interrupted. He glanced up a saw that Stan was staring at him, a question obviously on the tip of his tongue. Eddie refocused on the television screen and hoped that Stan just thought he was bored of the movie and didn’t actually notice him openly staring at Richie.

“Do you want some water, Stan?” Ben whispered.

“No, but I think—”

“I gotta go,” Eddie interrupted. “Ma’ll get mad if I’m home late again.”

Before anyone could say anything, Eddie was on his feet and headed towards the front door. He could hear his friends calling their goodbyes, one “Later, Eds,” floated out over the rest as he pulled the door closed after himself and walked out into the warm summer night towards home.

Eddie was around fourteen years old when he couldn’t help himself anymore. It was Bev’s choice, so they were all crammed into the couches and chairs in Ben’s basement with a horror movie playing on the TV. Eddie had claimed the corner seat for once. He had raced down the stairs as soon as Ben’s mom opened the door and found that he was the first to arrive and so slammed his body down into the corner. It was the best seat in the house for several reasons: first, it was the part of the L couch with room for your legs, second, the cushions were magic, they’d all decided as much, because no matter how you sat there you never had to readjust—they just took your shape and stayed perfectly fluffed and your butt never went numb. Eddie claimed it and he wasn’t moving. Eventually, everyone else showed up. Bill had chosen to sit next to Eddie but, when Richie got there, he decided that the sliver of space between Bill and Eddie had his name on it and wiggled his way in.

Eddie already knew that Richie didn’t like horror films. He liked to put on a brave face, but Eddie knew. Richie’s hands would start to scratch and pull at each other, occasionally one would find its way into the messy curls on his head then come back down to tangle with the other. Eddie was distracted, to say the least. In the last few years his innocent questioning had turned into something more of an urge. An urge to reach out and touch.

Richie was pressed against Eddie from shoulder to thigh. Eddie could feel Richie turning slightly, an attempt to surreptitiously pull away from the film. Richie’s nerves were pouring off of him in waves. In one last moment of hesitation, Eddie’s eyes rolled up towards the ceiling as his took a small breath. _There’s nothing weird about this_, he told himself a few times, then he pulled his own hand from his lap and gently set it against the tangled mess of Richie’s two. Eddie kept his eyes locked on the TV and so only felt Richie’s gaze snap from their hands to the side of Eddie’s face.

“Eds,” he said under his breath, quiet enough that it was easily masked by the scream emanating from the television.

“Shh,” Eddie silenced him without turning. Instead of arguing, Richie rearranged their hands so that the one Eddie had shared was enclosed between Richie’s two, one tangled with Eddie’s own fingers and the other palm to the back of Eddie’s hand, all resting on Richie’s thigh. His hands were soft.

It was dark enough that Eddie wasn’t worried about any of their friends noticing that he and Richie were holding hands. He thought that maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, but he also did not want to field any questions on the matter.

They sat quietly and perfectly still throughout the rest of the movie. By the end of it, Eddie couldn’t have recounted a single thing that happened other than the gentle warming of his hand in Richie’s. Their friends started moving, Ben was making his way to the TV to turn the movie off, Bill was stretching on the couch beside Richie. Stan, in the large armchair was moaning to Bev, “That was awful. I think we should revoke your next day.”

“Aww, Stanley! It wasn’t so bad was it? Are you scared?” She lightly mocked him.

From the floor in front of Stan’s chair, Mike said, “I don’t know, Beverly. That was pretty gross.”

Eddie, in a display of great restraint, pulled his hand from Richie’s. He still hadn’t looked at Richie, but he could definitely feel his eyes boring holes into the side of his face.

“I mean, just look at Eddie,” Mike continued, “I think he might puke.”

“Eddie?” Bill leaned over Richie to look him straight in the face, Eddie turned to look back, still keeping his gaze away from Richie’s face. “You okay?”

“Yep,” he said. “I gotta go, though. Ma…” he let the ending hang in the air instead of finishing it himself.

“Aww, Eddie, I’m sorry!” Bev had spun around to look at him, too. “I really didn’t think it would be that bad.”

“You didn’t think it would be that bad?” Stan interjected. “Really? A name like The Human Centipede and you didn’t think it would be that bad?”

_Gross_, Eddie thought. He was glad to have missed it. “I’m okay, really. Just need to get home.” He was up and out the door before anyone could even think to stop him.

Eddie was around seventeen years old when he started to realize that, even though they were best friends and had known each other for years, the amount of hand holding that he and Richie did was a bit more than the national average. It didn’t matter what movie was playing in Ben’s basement anymore, they were holding hands. Richie started tagging along when Eddie would say he had to go or else Ma, and as they walked their hands would link and Eddie would smile and stare at his feet, chancing glances at their hands while they went. The Losers were a little bit big for the clubhouse that Ben had built a few years back, but that didn’t stop them from using it. Richie would climb in first, then take Eddie’s hand to help him off the ladder and then just wouldn’t let go. They, as a group, made a point of going to the movie theater most weekends and in the dark room Eddie and Richie’s hands would seemingly gravitate towards each other. The Losers surely noticed, but something in the quiet way that their hands would find themselves tangled together told everyone that this was delicate; not something to be poked or prodded. And so, it was just the way that things were. They all let it slide, but Eddie started paying attention to when the rest of them touched each other and found that it wasn’t often. It wasn’t until Bev and Ben started looking at each other differently that anyone gave Eddie and Richie a run for their money.

It took just a bit of time for Eddie to realize what that comparison meant. Or, what it could mean, anyway. He’d meant to say something, do something about that. He wanted to.

Eddie had been relegated to his bedroom. Senior year was almost over, and he had finally told his mother that he had been accepted into a few undergraduate programs but that he was still trying to pick one. Sonia had absolutely lost her mind. How could he go anywhere without her? How would he ever make it on his own? No one would ever love him like she does. Who would help him when he needed it? Where would he turn when she wasn’t there with him? It was out of the question. Eddie was smart, but life just didn’t cater to him the way he wanted and that meant that he would have to stay home with his Ma so that he could be safe. It’s better to be safe than sorry isn’t it, Eddie-Bear?

It had been a few days. She had called the school and told them that he was ill. She may have even believed that herself; she would periodically unlock his door to deliver medication that she said would alleviate his fever. It would help him think straight again. He wasn’t allowed to use a phone; his laptop was nowhere to be seen. He was alone and he hated himself for it. He was nearly an adult and still, a few words from his mother and it was like he was in quicksand. Try to move and it buries you faster, you slip in further. He was up to his neck and found himself wondering if maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just slide under.

He’d been laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, when a tap at the window just about made him shit his pants. It was almost midnight and there was a figure on the other side of the glass. Death was surely imminent.

But then the figure smiled at him. It said, “Eds, open up!”

Eddie glanced at his door, thought better of leaving it to chance and moved his desk chair to wedge the door closed. He didn’t really know how to do that, so he just tipped the chair and hoped for the best then opened his window to let Richie in.

He didn’t need to ask what he was doing. His friends hadn’t heard from him all week and that was surely why Richie had scaled Eddie’s house. “What happened?” Richie asked, grabbing hold of one of Eddie’s hands.

“I told her about college,” Eddie whispered. “She’s not letting me go. I’m never getting out.” He felt the burning in his eyes that meant tears were coming. He didn’t want to cry. He’d already cried all day, all week; he should have dried up by now.

Richie’s hand tightened on his as he whispered back, “I’ll help you. I’ll always help you.” Eddie tipped his head up, tearing his eyes away from their joined hands to look at Richie’s face. He was so kind. Of course, Richie wanted to help him. But wanting to help someone does not make anything better on its own. They were still kids and no matter how much Eddie wanted help, the only person that could actually do anything for him was his mother. She’d never let him have a job, so he was financially dependent upon her. She never let him do any extracurriculars, so scholarships weren’t easy to come by. He was almost eighteen but there was no way for him to just leave, he’d be on the streets in no time. He would need her help. But that would never come, he knew it.

“Rich,” he breathed, shaking his head only slightly. He didn’t want to outright tell Richie that there was nothing he could do.

Richie lifted his free hand and placed it softly on Eddie’s cheek. Without pause, Eddie leaned into the touch, Richie’s soft palm holding gentle pressure, his thumb swiping Eddie’s cheekbone in a manner so tender that Eddie’s eyes slipped closed. He thought that maybe now—but Richie was pulling away faster than he ever had. He was ripping the closet open and digging around at the back.

“What are you doing, Richie?”

“Looking for a bag,” a muffled voice said from behind the row of hanging clothes.

“What? Why?” Eddie was still standing in the middle of his room, arms awkwardly extended as if still holing Richie’s hand in one and reaching for him with the other.

“Because, Eds!” He said, louder than he should have, “I’m going to help you.”

“What—”

“Grab the clothes you want to keep. Hurry up,” he said, emerging from the closet, a duffel bag in hand. Eddie hadn’t even realized that that was in there. “Faster!” He dropped the bag on the bed and stopped in front of Eddie to look him dead in the eyes. “You’re coming with me.”

This would never work. The school year wasn’t even over. Where would they go? What was Richie thinking? They didn’t have money despite Richie’s part time job (he was always spending his money on the most ridiculous things), they only had Richie’s hand-me-down Corolla. “What are you talking about? Where the hell are we gonna go?”

“My house,” he said as if it was obvious. “My parent’s love you, it’ll be fine.” He was haphazardly throwing clothes from Eddie’s dresser into the bag while Eddie stood frozen. He dashed into Eddie’s bathroom and when he came out Eddie saw his toothbrush and toothpaste and deodorant as Richie tossed it in as well.

“Rich...” Eddie said with a sigh. The thought of inviting the wrath of his mother into the lives of Richie’s parents was just about the worst thing he could think of. Life would be hell. They would send him back to Sonia the moment she opened her foul mouth. He would have to face the unfathomable repercussions of leaving and he would have to do it alone because he would never see even daylight again, he would never breath fresh air again, his friends would move on and maybe only every once in a while remember their old friend Eddie who was locked in a tower.

“Stop,” Richie said, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders. “We’re going.” His hands found Eddie’s cheeks again. This time Richie locked their eyes and Eddie couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. He wanted so badly to believe in Richie, that he could help him, that if they could just leave this house that everything would be fine, that Went and Maggie would be able to shield him from the worst of things until he could leave. But that was just fantasy. It was a fantasy in which Richie closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Eddie’s then they parted and fled the house together never to look back again.

Eddie had closed his eyes as Richie’s lips parted. They were inching in closer, the fantasy so near, when the chair that Eddie had propped against the door fell away. His mother stood, red-faced and panting, in the doorway. Eddie could feel the rage flooding the room, he was preparing to step in front of Richie. She stomped into the room as Richie said, “Oh hey, Mrs. K! Funny running into you here.”

“What is all this noise? You!” She shrieked at the same time as Richie had spoken, a finger stabbing the air in Richie’s direction. Her eyes tore over them, their closeness, “You think that you can come into my house, put your filthy hands on my boy, and that there won’t be consequences?” Her voice was so shrill that Eddie almost recoiled from it.

“That was the general idea,” Richie said.

“Richie,” Eddie whispered.

“Eddie, come here. You’re ill and this,” disgusted pause, “deviant boy is going to make it worse. Come here now!” Even as she said it she walked towards them and stretched her arms out as if to grab hold of one of them. Richie was ducking and reaching for the duffel bag as she closed in. “Don’t you remember what I told you about boys like him?” She spat the words out as if they were poison. “I can’t believe you let him in here. That you let him touch you! He’s a faggot! Can’t you see that, Eddie-Bear? He’ll kill you! But I can help you. We can still fix this.” Her hands were on his shoulders now, a cold echo of the hands that were there before. He missed Richie’s touch already, felt chilled and as if the life was pouring out of him with her hands there instead.

Something snapped. “Faggot?” He asked.

“Yes, Eddie. I’ve been trying to tell you, to keep this kind of thing away from you, but I can see that he’s already tricked you. But I can—” her voice had gone soft, almost affectionate.

“Shut up, Ma.” He said it quietly. It was something he’d never said before, but it felt right hanging in the air the way that it did.

In the silence that followed, he felt two things: Richie grabbed ahold of the back of his shirt, and Sonia’s hands tightened on his shoulders. As Sonia shrieked, “Edward!” he heard Richie whisper, “Oh, hell yeah.”

“I’m leaving, Ma.” He was calm. “I can’t stay here with you anymore.” He saw that she wanted to speak, that she wanted to remind him of all the ways that the world would crush him, that she was the only one that could keep him safe, that could protect him from the dangers that the world would surely throw at him. “You’re wrong about me,” he said, searching her face for any sign of actual motherly love. When he found none, he slipped out of her hold and reached for the hand that was holding the back of his shirt. Richie tangled their fingers together without hesitation, an impossible smile overtaking his face. They skirted around Sonia and raced towards the front door, she was slower and only reached the porch as they were sliding into Richie’s car.

“Edward!” She called, stopped at the edge of the porch by some invisible force. “This isn’t you; I know you! Eddie-Bear, you come back!” She was quiet a moment, and then, “I’ll be here when you do.”

A chill ran down his spine at her promise. She would. She would be there waiting for him. He took a moment as Richie drove off to say a silent prayer to a God that he wasn’t sure existed that he wouldn’t ever need her again. He sent his prayer off and reached into the seat next to him, taking Richie’s hand in his again. They were only a few blocks from the Tozier house when Eddie asked Richie to pull over.

“Please, Rich. I just need… I need to—" the car stopped, and Eddie was out and pacing along the side of the road with his head in his hands.

“Eds,” hands came down on Eddie’s shoulders again, “Eds, Eddie, please.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he fixed his wild eyes on Richie’s. “What the fuck am I doing? It’s going to be so much worse now. When I go back, she’s never going to let this go.”

“So, we won’t go back then.” Richie said it like it was simple. Like leaving meant that all of the weight was gone, that the strings that she’d spent all of these years tying just came undone. That’s not what happened at all; they were just tighter. Pulling at him as he tried to walk further and further away. Eddie was reminded of being a child, when Sonia would take him out shopping with her and she would make him wear a leash. It was a bright yellow thing, Velcro around his wrist and he would try to run only to be yanked back to her side. He remembers how the Velcro was sharp and stung when he pulled. “I said I would help you,” Richie’s voice interrupted the memory like a sharpened knife through paper.

God, he wanted that. _God, please let Richie help me_. But he was also realizing in that moment on the side of the road that he didn’t know how to be without her. Despite the knowledge that what she’d been doing was wrong, he couldn’t shake her.

“I don’t want to overstep here, Eds,” Richie said quietly. “I don’t want to pretend that I know what you’re dealing with. But I do think that maybe, even though it feels impossible right now, maybe some day down the line you’ll wake up and realize that you left her behind and that it needed to happen. This is just the start of it. Nothing’s ever easy when you’re just starting, right?”

“You live like two miles away from her,” Eddie pointed out.

“_We_ live like two miles away from her _for now_.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll figure it out.”

Eddie wanted that. To figure it out, but he hoped that maybe he could hang on long enough for them to figure it out together. Really figure it out together. “I’m sorry,” Eddie said, still looking up into Richie’s eyes.

“For what, Eds?”

“For what she said about… about you.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“You shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that.”

“Well, Eds, hate to break it to you, but in my line of work it’s sort of unavoidable. People are assholes.”

“Your line of work? Richie, you work at the movie theater.”

Richie’s face was doing something strange; Eddie could almost hear the gears turning. He raised a hand up and smoothed out the scrunched-up skin between his eyebrows. Richie lifted a hand from Eddie’s shoulder and caught the hand touching his face and moved it so that Eddie’s palm was holding Richie’s cheek. They were only there for a moment before Richie tipped his chin down to meet Eddie halfway in a soft press of their lips. Somewhere in the corner of his heart, Eddie felt a sigh of relief. Eddie’s free hand wound its way around to the back of Richie’s neck, tugging him in closer, closer, closer. The hand that was left on Eddie’s shoulder slid down his body, finding home on his hip and pulling him in.

Richie walked Eddie backwards with hardly a glance in the direction they were moving, and pressed Eddie’s back to the car door. He melted into the car and into Richie and Richie melted into him. Eddie couldn’t tell how long they were there, only that his lips were bruised, and his cheeks were flushed. Eventually a halo of light behind Richie caught Eddie’s attention. They had parked in front of someone’s house and the residents had apparently noticed the pair of them. Despite everything, Eddie felt giddy at being caught out, like a pair of kids home after their first date, the porch light flicked on by a protective parent. For just a moment he could pretend that this had all happened in a normal way, that he hadn’t just fled from his home, that Richie hadn’t had to shove Eddie’s things into a bag so that they could run from Sonia.

They smiled into each other before getting back into the car and making the rest of the way to Richie’s house.

Maggie had always known what Sonia was. It didn’t take any effort at all to convince her to let Eddie stay. He told her that he didn’t want to cause problems for their family. Went had interjected then, “What will she do, Eddie? She’s been keeping you from school. She wouldn’t be able to get out of that.”

“Plus, you’re basically eighteen. By the time she manages to get herself to do anything it won’t matter anymore,” Richie said.

The plan was that he would finish senior year and then go from there. He had been accepted into a few universities and Maggie was more than happy to help him navigate the ins and outs of financial aid. She told him that she would love nothing more than to help him succeed. He thinks that maybe this could work. If the smile on Richie’s face is anything to go by, it already was.

Maggie gave him the guest room. He used it occasionally. Mostly he just wanted to be held by Richie, and mostly Richie just wanted to hold him.

Eddie was around twenty-eight years old when he realized that Richie’s hand would look a lot better with a ring on it. They had made their way out to California together all those years ago. Suffered through the hell that is university and all the dues you pay in order to say, “Yes, I suffered, but look at this fancy piece of paper I was given for my efforts!” They managed to keep in touch with all of the Losers really well. They all swore when they left Derry that once they could afford it, they would have at least annual get togethers. They managed it. They fucking crushed it. Bev and Ben had literally just been out to see them last week all the way from Boston. Eddie realized a little after the fact that Bev would probably be pretty pissed off that he chose to wait until after they left the state to propose.

It was almost eight in the evening on a Friday night. Richie was running late. Shocker. Eddie was sitting on their couch, tucked up into the best corner with a glass of wine and a blanket over his legs. He realized in that moment just how spoiled he truly was—a blanket over his legs in this weather, who the fuck did he think he was?

He heard the key slide into the lock about half past eight. “Sorry, sorry! I’m here. James just wouldn’t shut up about this idea he has for the finale and I just wasn’t feeling it, ya know?” Kiss on the cheek, keys thrown into the bowl on the table. “It’s just such a bad idea! So out of character. And he thinks it’s hilarious, too. Wait until I tell you the jokes he’s trying to write. I mean, I know I’ve told some bad ones in my time but, holy shit, Eds, these are even testing my patience. Mine! Can you believe that?” He was a whirlwind. Shoes flew off into to closet by the door, jacket that really could have been hung up in the very same closet found its way onto the banister instead, then he shoved himself into Eddie’s side, only just managing not to spill what was left of Eddie’s wine.

Eddie could feel the grin on his face widening. This was the man that he loved. That loved him. Properly, too. There’s a distinction to be made there and with time Eddie learned how to make it, and this love that he has is good.

“How much have you had?” Richie asked, eyeing the glass in his hand and the big smile on his face.

“I love you,” is what he says instead of answering the question.

“I love you, too, Eds,” he said it quietly, like he didn’t want to waste it. “Smells great in here. What did you make?” He was fully wrapped around Eddie now. Arms across his shoulders and chest, legs curled up under the blanket with Eddie’s, nose pressed into Eddie’s neck like that’s where the great smell was coming from.

“Hey,” Eddie said, tilting his head back a little to look Richie in the eyes. “You were right.” Richie pulled his face back only slightly, giving himself enough room to give Eddie a look of confusion. “This life that we have together is so much better than anything I could have imagined when we were kids. I love you so much for helping me get here.” Richie’s eyes were shining when Eddie pressed in close, he left a trail of small kisses across Richie’s cheeks and finally one on his lips.

“I don’t know what to say, Eds. Except that I’m happy too, though.”

Eddie leaned away for a moment to set his glass on the table in front of them. When he came back Richie had turned and had his hands on Eddie’s hips, was pulling him in and under. Eddie had half a mind to let him, but his hand under the blanket closed around the small box in his pocket. He was on his back with Richie crawling overtop of him, pressing kisses into his jaw, his hands free roaming now. Eddie only just managed to pull his trapped hand free of the blanket and Richie’s weight on top of him.

“Hey,” Eddie said again. The position he was in didn’t allow for much, so when Richie pulled back to look at Eddie, he just put the closed, black box on his own chest. Richie propped himself up higher so that he could see it properly. Richie’s mouth opened and closed without a sound; his eyes were wide as all hell. “Wow, not a peep, huh? That’s okay, I’ve got something to say anyway.” Eddie took a small breath before he said, “I think maybe we should make this official. Marry me?”

“Bev’s gonna kill you for waiting until she left.”

Eddie frowned.

“Sorry Spaghetti, just collecting thoughts here.” The shine was back in his eyes and there was a wobble in his chin and when he tried to smile he let out a wet noise. “Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

Eddie pulled the ring from the box and together they slipped it onto the appropriate finger where it would stay. He was right, Richie’s hand looked even better with the ring on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Cris. Thanks if you read this! I haven't actually published any of my fics before so I'm kind of new to this. Maybe consider being kind?


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